


Aš Tave Myliu — I love you

by ForeverAfandom



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Inspired by fan art, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall (Hannibal), There’s sorta a bit of fluff?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27852954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverAfandom/pseuds/ForeverAfandom
Summary: It’s been years since the fall and Jack Crawford is the only one still determined to find the two legally dead men.Chances are, however, he hadn’t expected to find them quite as he did — pressed together and more dangerous as a pair than either had ever been alone.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a Pinterest post. I’ll put the link below.  
> Enjoy!

Link: https://pin.it/ObU4b2V

————•—————

Will pinched the bridge of his nose while Hannibal simply stood in the doorway, his expression completely passive. 

He was carrying his lunch box, which Will knew was much more than a lunch box. It was how Hannibal brought home whatever he harvested from his victims. Lungs. Hearts. Livers. He’d brought home a pair of eyes once (Will hadn’t touched those). 

“Alright,” Will took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. He was, of course, far from calm. “Who was it this time?”

“Father Todner.”

“The priest?!” Will hissed. “Hannibal, he’s a — was a highly esteemed — he was — he’s popular around here. You can’t just —”

“He was stealing the donations to the church, Will. He was a thief.” Hannibal moved to their small kitchen. 

They were currently staying in a small town on the border of Sweden and Norway. They never stayed in one spot for too long, and Hannibal had agreed not to kill anyone in the immediate vicinity of whatever town they were staying in. This was the first time he’d broken his promise. Well, the first time Will knew of, at least. 

And yet, Will couldn’t find it in himself to be too mad. He never could. That was likely because he was always, in some degree, angry with the psychologist. 

Will sighed and followed Hannibal into the kitchen. They weren’t married, as it was, but it was a better story to say they were. The other narratives they had come up with had always sounded so . . . fake. With their story of course, came the props. Hannibal had a silver ring on his finger and Will bore a gold one on his. 

It had been years since Hannibal and Will had escaped off the side of the cliff. Since then, they traveled around Europe, Asia, and had stayed amongst the Gambier Islands for a few weeks. 

Hannibal had promised Will that the islands would be safe. They were simply a stopping point for the two that Hannibal would not touch with his murder. As far as Will knew, he’d kept his promise. 

Hannibal offered Will a small smile as he entered the kitchen. A genuine smile from Hannibal was rare enough that Will felt nearly required to return it. So he did. 

“Jack is getting closer,” Hannibal said after a rather peaceful silence. “He knows we’re in town, Will.”

“I know.” Will frowned. “We should leave soon.” 

This wasn’t the first time Jack Crawford had seemly cornered Will and Hannibal. He’d done the same in Bayeux, Mainz, Reading, and Wexford. And, each time, Hannibal and Will had managed to leave without him ever truly finding them. 

He was a man obsessed, that Jack Crawford. He’d been trailing the two men for the past three years and, surprisingly, he’d been getting closer too. Jack must’ve sensed how near he was to Hannibal and Will, as his frantic search seemed to poison the air around the town. 

“We are not leaving this time,” Hannibal finally looked up to meet Will’s eyes. For the first time, Will realized just how tired Hannibal was. They’d been running for a long time and it was finally taking its toll. 

“What?” Will was furious to find a hint of fear in his voice. 

Hannibal stepped away from the counter and towards the younger man. He grabbed his hands and Will tensed. Hannibal was rarely affectionate. He showed it in other ways. Dinner dates, he’d composed a few songs for Will, drawings, and spontaneous mutterings of ‘Aš tave myliu’. Hannibal had never told Will what that meant, but Will could guess. 

He, however, rarely reached for Will’s hand. He rarely kissed Will. He rarely hugged Will. And that was fine. Will really didn’t mind. In a way, he preferred it that way. It was almost as if he could convince himself that he was distancing himself from the evil that was Hannibal Lecter while still allowing himself to love the man. 

Hannibal’s hand was warm. That always surprised Will. He expected him to be cold and hard, like marble or stone. And yet, he radiated warmth. A likely comparison could be that he was warm like the fires of Hell. 

“We are not leaving, William,” Hannibal finally breathed, drawing Will close. “Jack will come to us. And, if he tries to hurt you or me, we will kill him. If he tries to bring us back, we will kill him.”

Will, finally growing accustomed to Hannibal’s touch, leaned forward. “So, we’re killing Jack?”

Hannibal grinned. “Yes, Will. We are killing Jack.” Hannibal’s lips slowly drew closer to Will’s. “He is the only one after us. The only one that still believes we are alive.” Hannibal’s lips brushed against Will’s ever so slightly. “And once he is gone, Will, we will be free.” 

Will brought his hands up to Hannibal’s arm, finding a comfortable position as Hannibal’s lips settled against his own. Hannibal grinned, lifting his own hand to rest gently in the curve of Will’s neck. 

Hannibal, for a man as tall and, well, deadly as he was, had always been surprisingly gentle. At least, he had been the few times he’d kissed Will. It was as if he was holding glass. A teacup, perhaps? Will mused. Scared to let me shatter. 

Hannibal’s other hand curved around Will’s back, pulling him closer so that their bodies were flushed together. Will could feel the electricity buzzing through him. It was a strange and horrible thing. This is pure manipulation. He reminded himself. And, yet, I don’t care. 

And the door was thrown open. 

“Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham you’re under —” Jack froze, his gun raised, as he saw Will, pushed up against Hannibal. They were no longer kissing. 

And Will would’ve moved, he really would’ve, but Hannibal’s hands held him in place. The hand on Will’s back slowly moved so that it was between them. And, for one heart-stopping moment, Will thought Hannibal was about to further their intimacy at a time like this. 

That is, until he drew a gun from the front of his pants. Will fought the urge to laugh (now really wasn’t the time). So, it really was a gun . . . Will thought, a strange sense of euphoria bubbling inside of him. 

Will’s body blocked Jack from seeing the gun. He, evidently, assumed the same thing Will had first assumed. “Don’t you dare, Lecter. You’re coming with me!” Hannibal smiled and looked down at Will as if asking for permission. 

Will smiled back and, almost instantly, the gunshot was ringing in his ears. 

For one painstakingly long moment, Will felt as though his heart had stopped. He could feel a pressure against his back and he waited desperately for the pain of the bullet to kick in. After a moment, when he felt nothing more than the warmth of Hannibal’s hand against his shirt, he relaxed. 

And, to Will’s amusement, Hannibal leaned down once more. “Where were we?” 

Will laughed and finally pushed himself away. He moved over towards Jack’s wheezing body and wasn’t surprised when he felt only annoyance at the blood spreading over the carpet. 

“Why?” Jack’s hand was gripped firmly over his bleeding stomach. “Why’d — why’d you leave?”

Hannibal stepped forward so that he was standing next to Will. He handed him the gun. 

Will took careful aim. His hands no longer shook when he pointed a gun. He no longer saw Hobbs. It was just Jack. And Jack Crawford had been ruining their lives for long enough. 

“Good question, Jack. I’ll tell you when I figure it out.” 

“Say hello to Bella for me,” Hannibal grinned. 

And Will pulled the trigger.


	2. Sun and Moon — Hannibal AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Those seconds, half seconds, that the line of our gaze connected, were the only moment in my day that I felt anything at all. The sudden swoop of my stomach, the coursing anger. I was like a fish eyeing the hook.”  
> \- Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU inside an AU in which Hannibal is Achilles and Will is Patroclus. Neither Hannibal or Will died during the Trojan War and are both going on to conquer the rest of Greece (referred to as Hallada here).

Hannibal looked back to Will, a grin spreading across his face. He practically glowed in the light of the evening sun, as if Apollo was finally accepting his defeat and washing Hannibal in golden victory. 

And behind them, Troy burned. 

“We’ll rule it together,” Hannibal breathed, pulling Will up onto a fallen barricade. Together, they looked out over the once-majestic city. 

Helen and Paris had surrendered, Hector was long dead, and Phyrus had fallen victim to a stray spear on the battlefield. It was an odd way for a man with godly blood raging through his veins to die. Hannibal, unsurprisingly, had been glad to hear of his son’s death. 

Will leaned into Hannibal and grinned. They’d come so far in their years together. “It’s beautiful.” 

His stomach caught as he realized just how honest his words were. The burning city of Troy was gorgeous. The flames were reflected in the blood flooding the streets so that it seemed almost gold. Streets of gold. 

Any man, woman, boy, or girl who had not fled was now being lined along the cobblestone — all dead. They would be given a burial, if possible, per Menelaus’s request. He’d said he was simply fulfilling his wife’s plea. 

Hannibal spun Will around to face him and grasped at his shoulders. And, for a moment, Will was too distracted to listen to what he was saying. The golden light in Hannibal’s hair, the curve of his lips, the sea of colors inside his eyes — this and this and this and this. It was all so captivating.

“Will, are you listening?”

The man in question blinked. “Sorry, no? What were you saying?” 

Hannibal did not look angry as he started again. “Now that Troy has fallen, we can take Hallada. Sparta, Athens, Corinth, Thebes . . . Will, they’ll all be ours!” His face was alight with pure, unbridled excitement. “We can rule together!” 

Will had the feeling that Hannibal would’ve continued talking. He figured that, perhaps, Hannibal would’ve gone into every detail of his plan. Every aspect of how they would capture each state. However, his excitement was cut short by Agamemnon. The king was just as proud of their victory as the demigod. They had captured Troy and, for once, did not seem to be in the mood to quarrel with the other. 

“Well fought, Chrysó,” Agamemnon practically shouted.  
From their post on the fallen barricade, Hannibal and Will stood a few feet above the king and could look down upon him. “We won.”

Hannibal grinned in a way that Will had forgotten he could. A childish thing filled with elation and light-hearted joy. It was as if there was not a sea of death and destruction beyond where they stood. 

“We won, indeed.” And the smile turned rancid. Will had known Hannibal for long enough to guess what was going on under his sun-stricken hair. Agamemnon’s state, Mycenae, would be the first to fall under Hannibal and Will. “I will see you soon,” Hannibal continued, the bitter smile still in place. “I am sure celebrations are in order.” 

Agamemnon strutted away, unaware of the plot brewing inside the prince’s head. 

Hannibal pulled Will down from the barricade and towards the now-open gates of Troy. “Come,” he practically sang. “I must speak to my mother, and then our work begins.” 

Will did not voice his worry, but Hector had fallen. In accordance to the prophecy, did that not mean that Hannibal, too, would die? The thought had plagued him since the war began. Since before he even knew the man named Hector existed. He pushed away his fears and followed Hannibal all the way to the edge of the sea where Thetis — Hannibal’s mother and a daughter of Nereus — stood. 

—————•—————

Unsurprisingly, Sparta was the last of the states to fall to Hannibal and Will. Once their army made it past the male militia, they had to fight to pass the female warriors inside the city walls. The women of Sparta were trained to the same standards as the men. They were a well oiled machine and they had nearly stopped Myrmidons’s forces. And yet, with Hannibal at the head of the charge and Will right beside him, Sparta fell like all the rest. 

Hannibal wore golden armor with a large, pure white cape. The cape, of course, was now red with the blood of too many Spartan’s to count. And his armor bore rivers of red that, unlike his cape, could be cleaned away. Will wore something quite similar, only, he’d been wise and taken the gore of war into account. Both his armor and cape were black and — though the cape was heavy with blood — appeared stainless. 

Hannibal gripped his sword, a gleeful smile stretching across his face. “We’ve done it, Will. Hallada is ours.”

“You will be king and I will be your knight.”

Hannibal turned to Will and shook his head. “No, Will. You will rule next to me. Not even the gods can stop us now.” 

Will sent a silent prayer up to any god who may have been listening. Hannibal may accept it, but Will didn’t fancy some strange and cruel punishment as a result of Hannibal’s remark. 

Will’s hair sagged under the weight of his sweat and the blood of the others. “We should rest, Hannibal. Perhaps a celebration?” Will suggested. “Our men have been at war for a long time. They deserve a night before we begin restoring the cities.” 

Hannibal grinned. “Look at you, already making decisions.” He allowed his eyes to wander over the man before him. “Perhaps a wash is in order? We must look nice for when we are crowned, after all.” 

Will’s eyes fluttered closed. He was exhausted. They had fought for hours upon hours. His arms were sore and he had a rather sizable gash along his calf. “A wash sounds nice,” he finally muttered. 

And, with that, Hannibal led Will towards the castle where, if this kingdom was anything like Myrmidons, there should be a bathhouse. 

“Welcome home, my king,” Hannibal breathed as they stepped over the threshold of the palace. 

Will smiled. “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! If you guys are interested, I may make this a little series where I take your prompts and write little ficlets for them.


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